


Penance

by Feelforfaith



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 04:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18683728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelforfaith/pseuds/Feelforfaith
Summary: The aura of arrogant confidence Barnes exudes makes it seem as if the word "self-conscious" doesn't exist in his dictionary, but Tony knows better.With a determined shove, Barnes pushes the jeans all the way down and steps out of them. Folds them and places them on the chair. He spreads his legs shoulder-width, lifts his chin and clasps his hands behind his back."How do you want me?"Whether it's the posture or the tone of voice that sounds like there is a "sir" at the end of the question, it never fails to drag heat through Tony's guts. He takes another sip of the whisky before he answers."Same way as always."





	Penance

 

The room number is always the same, the time is always the same. He always shows up. 

But when Tony sprawls in the leather wingback armchair and sips on his Johnnie Walker Blue, waiting for the knock on the suite's door, there is always a thought at the back of his mind, what if he doesn't come?

He pours himself more whisky and waits.

When the knock comes—two taps followed by another two taps—Tony doesn't have to check his watch to know it's 10pm exactly. 2200 hours. 

He sets the tumbler on the side table and walks across the suite to open the door. 

They measure each other with their eyes, not friendly, but not hostile either, a silent acknowledgment instead of a greeting, before Tony steps aside to let Barnes in.

He returns to the armchair and picks up his whisky. 

Barns shrugs out of his worn jacket and hangs it over the armrest of the chair by the bed. The buttons of his shirt pop out of their holes one by one, like rank and file soldiers. He is watching Tony with an expression Tony can never read. The shirt joins the jacket on the chair. Barns puts one foot in a boot up on the edge of the seat and bends over to undo the buckles and untangle the laces. Then the other one. Tony follows the curve of his ass over the waistband of the jeans to the dips in his lower back. Socks drop to the floor next to the boots. 

When Barns straightens up and turns to face Tony, there is a shadow of a smile on his face when he catches Tony staring at him. 

Tony raises his eyebrows and holds his gaze. "I don't have all night." 

He tips the tumbler to his mouth again. The whisky smooths down his throat in a wave of satisfying, honey sweet and smoky flavor.

Barns unbuttons the fly of his jeans and drags them down his hips together with the underwear. 

Tony follows the trail of dark hair on his abdomen and the slow reveal of his cock from the folds of the fabric. The aura of arrogant confidence Barnes exudes makes it seem as if the word "self-conscious" doesn't exist in his dictionary, but Tony knows better.

With a determined shove, Barnes pushes the jeans all the way down and steps out of them. Folds them and places them on the chair. He spreads his legs shoulder-width, lifts his chin and clasps his hands behind his back.

"How do you want me?"

Whether it's the posture or the tone of voice that sounds like there is a "sir" at the end of the question, it never fails to drag heat through Tony's guts. He takes another sip of the whisky before he answers.

"Same way as always."

In one move, Barnes yanks the comforter off the bed. The mattress dips when he climbs onto it and drops to his hands and knees, facing the headboard.

His vantage point to the side of the bed allows Tony a full view of Barnes—with his head down, the muscles shift under his skin, his cock hangs heavy between his legs, the metal arm like something misplaced against the pristine silk sheets. His hair falls down the sides of his face in disobedient strands. 

Tony runs his finger along the rim of the glass to drag the moment out. As long as he stays where he is, he can pretend that he can get up and walk out of here and don't look back. Once he climbs on that bed, he won't be able to pretend anymore. 

Sometimes he keeps Barnes waiting in a battle of wills Barnes has never lost yet. He always waits dispassionately, controlled, as if it doesn't matter to him what happens next. 

Sometimes Tony is tempted to find out what it would take to make him lose his cool. _Желание ... ржавый ... семнадцать ..._ perhaps?

But not tonight.

He sets the glass down and pulls on the back of his t-shirt, dragging it over his head as he's getting up. The belt buckle jingles when when he kicks off his jeans. 

Barnes doesn't change his position, but he lifts his head and looks over his shoulder, giving Tony a glimpse of his stubborn jaw behind the hair. 

Naked, Tony gets up on the bed and kneels behind Barnes. Barnes shivers when Tony grips his hip with one hand. 

His skin is cool to the touch, but it warms up under Tony's fingers. One hand still on Barnes's hip, Tony drags his other hand down his back, from his neck, along the spine, and to the top of his ass, counting each vertebra with his fingernails. Barnes tenses, rolls his shoulders. 

Tony stills his hand in the small of Barnes's back. "Hand me the lube."

Barns reaches for the bottle on the nightstand. 

Tony has been worked up since he entered the room earlier tonight, a low voltage buzzing under his skin and a restless mind, but the signature knock on the door always makes his cock hard like some kind of Pavlovian response, and it narrows his focus, laser-like, to one thing: fucking Barnes. 

He squeezes lube into his palm and coats his cock with it, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. The touch of his own fingers is enjoyable, but not nearly enough compared to what's coming. Still, he lets out a quiet groan. 

He puts his hand on Barnes's ass, fingers splayed, his thumb brushing over the hole. 

"Do you need me to prep you?"

"Why do you always ask?" Barnes shakes his head like a stallion fighting a bridle, hair whipping around his head.

Tony shrugs. "Maybe because I'm hoping that one day you will say, yes, and then I will fuck you dry."

Barnes lets out a burst of shaky laughter. "Well, keep asking then. You might get your wish some—" 

The rest of the sentence is swallowed by a guttural groan when Tony grips his cock and pushes it inside Barnes. Barnes arches his spine as Tony drives through the tight grip of the muscles. He pauses for a second to give Barnes an illusion of respite before he slams all the way in.

Barnes sucks the air in through his teeth. "Jesus."

"Yeah, something like that."

The tight heat of Barnes's ass clenches around him, and Tony squeezes his eyes shut to fight off the tremors in his thighs that threaten to overtake him. He takes a deep breath and digs his fingers into Barnes's skin to stop himself from shaking. When he's sure he's not going to fall apart the moment he moves, he pulls out and slides back in.

Under him, Barnes is panting. 

Tony fucks him without hurry at first, makes each push and pull last an agonizing eternity. Droplets of sweat glisten on Barnes's neck, roll from under his hair and across his back. 

Heat is building up inside him, inevitable and overpowering like tides. Tony grips Barnes's hips harder, picks up the pace, his thrusts out of control, driven by one goal only, and Barnes groans and drops down to his elbows, pushing his ass up, and shoves his fingers into his hair.

The different angle makes Tony's teeth chatter like he's cold and hot at the same time, and he's not going to last long. Judging from the low grunts, Barnes is close, too. Tony reaches around and clasps his fingers around the base of Barnes's cock. 

"Fuck." Barnes squirms and shoves his ass back, meeting Tony's thrusts.

"Don't come." Tony squeezes hard enough to make Barnes hiss with pain. "Don't you dare."

"I know."

Tony fucks into him again and again until he loses it, slams into him one more time and comes. His hips stutter, trying to get his cock inside Barnes as far as he can, to wrench every shiver, every thought out of him before he stills. 

He lets go of Barnes's cock and can't resist dragging his fingers along its steel-hard length. Barnes hisses again. Tony folds his arms on Barnes's back and rests his head on them, mindless of the sweat. The tight coil between his brain and his guts has unraveled, and there's nothing left to fight anymore, other than the warmth of Barnes's skin against his chest and thighs. 

Finally, he lets go of Barnes and slumps into the pillows with his back against the headboard.

As if Tony's body was the only thing holding him up, Barnes crumples next to him on the bed, his head turned to Tony, cheek against the pillow, dark eyes shining from behind his hair. 

Tony is still breathing hard, and the blood is surging through his veins as if they are ripped open and gushing. He locks his eyes with Barnes. "Go ahead."

Barnes closes his eyes. The muscles of his shoulders tense. His fingers fist around the sheet, gripping the silk hard enough to rip it. 

"How about, no," he says, even though his hips grind against the bed, and his mouth opens around a silent hiss with every thrust.

"How about, yes." 

Barnes always needs the push. And Tony has been looking forward to this part of their evening, and he's not letting him off. 

He reaches out to brush strands of sweaty hair away from Barnes's face. He tucks them behind his ear and drags his knuckles across Barnes's cheek. His thumb catches on the lower lip, and Barnes's chest hitches. He opens his eyes. 

There are droplets of sweat above his lip and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Do it. I want to see you." Tony pulls his hand back and sits up, one knee bent. 

It's another long moment before Barnes complies. Slowly, he drags himself up and to his knees, shuffles back and sits on his hunches, facing Tony, his jaw clenched. 

Tony nudges Barnes's knee. 

Barnes adjusts his position, spreading his thighs wider. He leans over and reaches behind him for the lube, slathers some into his palm. His hand goes to his cock and closes into a fist; he grips himself and makes a startled little noise in his throat as if the touch of his own hand was something he didn't expect. His head drops, hair falling over his eyes.

"Look at me," Tony says. He wants to see that flush creeping across Barnes's face.

He licks sweat off his lips when Barnes starts jerking his cock, his fingers tight and precise, used to pressing the trigger and reloading. 

The heat spreads from Barnes's neck to his chest, and his eyes go from narrowed to open wide and cloudy, but he doesn't look away. He props himself with his left arm and leans back on it while he fucks his own fist, pushing his hips up. His breathing quickens, and he bites his lip and groans, jerks his hips and spurts come across the sheets and Tony's outstretched leg.

If Tony were two decades younger, he would be hard again.

Barnes kneels with his head down for a long moment before he lets go of his cock and wipes his hand on the sheet. The blush is gone from his face, replaced by the inscrutable indifference again.

Tony pulls the edge of the comforter from the floor to wipe his thigh.

"Looks like we're done here." Barnes rises up from his hunches and slides off the bed with the grace of a switchblade stiletto knife.

He stretches, working the kinks out of his shoulders and neck, before he crosses the suite towards the bathroom.

"Barnes," Tony calls after him. 

Barnes stops and half-turns. 

"Why do you keep coming back?"

A smile pulls one corner of Barnes's mouth, but his eyes are haunted. "Call it, penance." 

Tony watches his naked back disappear in the bathroom and then the shower comes on.

He swings his legs off the bed. When he opens the bathroom door, Barnes looks at him through the water-streaked glass wall of the shower enclosure. Tony steps inside. 

Barns is bracing himself against the tiles with one forearm, letting the water run down his back. He tips his head up into the stream. 

Tony's hands find their way down Barnes's flanks, fingers skimming the wet skin, uncertain, like this is new territory for them. Barnes tenses. Tony brushes his fingers over his ass and along his inner thighs, and Barnes spreads his legs wider. 

"That's not how we play this game," Barnes says.

"I'm changing the rules." Tony runs his fingertip between Barnes's legs all the way to his balls and back.

Barnes hunches his shoulders. "Don't I get a say?" 

"No."

With his other hand, Tony reaches for Barnes's cock and starts stroking it, with a loose fist, resolved to coax it to hardness again.

Barnes shudders with every stroke. "I can't. I need more time. I can't ..."

"I know," Tony says. 

He turns Barnes around and slams his back against the tiled wall away from the stream of water. He sinks to his knees and takes Barnes's soft cock in his mouth, tasting the salty hint of come. 

Barnes moans; his head hits the wall, and his hands fall open at his sides. 

It's been a long time since Tony went down to his knees for anybody, but some things are like driving a Ferrari, and nobody has ever complained about his skill at giving head. He's determined to drag an orgasm out of Barnes if they have to spend the rest of the night in here. Preferably, before the hot water runs out.

It doesn't take as long. He sucks on Barnes's cock and pushes two fingers inside his ass, still slick with Tony's come, and slowly, Barnes grows hard in his mouth, the head of his cock sliding deeper, towards Tony's throat, and when his teeth scrape the skin, Barnes's breath hitches. He thrusts his hips, forcing his cock deeper. Tony tries to open his throat and take him all in, but he gags and has to ease off. Instead, he makes the best use of his tongue and keeps fucking Barnes with his fingers until Barnes shudders and slams his open palm against the wall of the shower and comes, gasping for air around a "Fuck" stretched over too many syllables. 

Tony pulls off him and swallows some, spits out the rest, and there are fingers fisting in his hair and a hand hauling him up by his shoulder. Barnes cradles the back of Tony's head, metal digging into Tony's skull, and drags Tony's mouth to his. 

Tony has never wondered what Barnes's mouth tastes like, never thought about it in any context other than forming the _How do you want me?_ question, and now he is chasing the unfamiliar taste down Barnes's tongue, past his teeth, as far as he can get inside his mouth to find out, to deconstruct it, to break it down into particles like it's vital to his survival.

When he finally pulls away to breathe, he slumps against Barnes's side, and Barnes wraps his other arm around him. Barnes's chest is solid and smooth—tangible—and Tony lets his hand roam across its expanse. He's ever only touched Barnes's back before.

He's had plenty of awkward mornings after in his past, and this feels a little like that. Like hoping that when you open your eyes the other guy will be gone, and there won't be a note with a phone number on the nightstand. But at the same time, it feels too much like those rare mornings when you hope that when you open your eyes, the other guy will be still there, and he will be in your kitchen, making you breakfast.

His fingers tangle idly in the wet hair over Barnes's shoulder. 

"Stay," he says. Inside his head, it sounds like a question. 

Barnes's chest heaves with each ragged breath he takes. 

Tony almost regrets speaking.

Barnes kneads the muscle under Tony's shoulder blade and rubs a little circle there. "Okay." 

He reaches past Tony to shut off the water.

 

Neither of them bothers putting any clothes back on, and the bed is big enough for Barnes to keep his distance, with his own pillow and a swath of bedsheets between them like no man's land. Seems it's better this way.

Tony folds one hand under his head. "Does Steve know?" 

Barnes shifts, rolls to his side to face Tony. His foot digs its way through the sheets between them and finds Tony's leg. 

Tony doesn't move away. 

"You didn't tell him," he says. 

"Would you have, if you were me?" 

Thinking about Steve makes his chest too heavy to breathe. "You should tell him. He carries around enough guilt as it is." 

It's a long minute before Barnes speaks again. "And did you tell anybody?" 

Barnes is trying to show him what a ridiculous idea it would be to talk about this to anybody, rather than actually asking a question and expecting an answer, but it makes Tony think about Bruce gone who knows where. It makes him think about Rhodey struggling to learn how to move his legs. About Natasha falling off the grid. About Clint. 

"There's nobody left to tell," he says and turns away from Barnes. 

Behind the heavy plush curtains, past the soundproof windows, twenty-six stories down, there's perpetual traffic noise and thousands of people busy with their own lives. In here, there's silence and someone in his bed who is not a friend, but not a stranger either. Being with another person has never felt so lonely. 

They lie in silence long enough that he thinks Barnes must have fallen asleep when the mattress shifts and Barnes shuffles closer. He presses his leg to the back of Tony's thigh. 

Stubborn, Tony doesn't react, but Barnes nudges him again, as if saying, _Come on_ , _you want this_ , and Tony surrenders and bends his knees, making room for Barnes to fit his legs into the angle of Tony's legs. Barnes's chest is not touching him, but it's so close, its warmth caresses Tony's back. So close, it would not take much for Tony to shift and have Barnes's whole body pressed against him. It's a comforting thought, to his surprise.

"So. That change in the rules," Barnes says, his voice quiet, "is it just for tonight?" 

There's a dizzy feeling in the pit of Tony's stomach like he's free falling without his suit. "Do you want it to be just for tonight?"

Barnes's mouth almost touches Tony's neck, his breath prickling Tony's skin with goosebumps. "No."

"Okay," Tony says.

Barnes tugs on the comforter and pulls it over their shoulders. 

 

In the morning, when Tony opens his eyes, Barnes is still there. 


End file.
